


Wounds

by Marrilyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Beating, Blood and Injury, Bruises, Caretaking, Crowley Being an Asshole, F/F, Flogging, Fluff, Healing, Hurt Rowena, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Rowena, Injury, POV Second Person, Pain, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Torture, Whipping, Whump, Wounds, protective Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 17:36:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11235906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: Reader enlists Crowley’s help to rescue Rowena, who has been taken and tortured by a zealot. Rowena is badly injured and it’s up to reader to provide her care and comfort.





	Wounds

Being chained up had been nothing new for Rowena.

Being beaten and then chained up by a zealot intent of purifying her soul, on the other hand, had been quite a novelty.

She’d had her fair share of run ins with fanatics – she had, after all, been alive for over three centuries. It would have been surprising if she hadn’t come across a fanatic or two in a lifetime that long.

Yet, this one stood out amongst them all. He wasn’t a man of cloth. He wasn’t a leader of a spiritual group or a hunter who’d taken his faith too far. He was just a simple man from a farm who’d owned as many weapons as he’d had rosaries.

Some would call him a hermit.

Rowena called him a bastard.

He’d apparently had a knowledge of the supernatural world, but instead of doing what so many like him did – going out into the world and eradicating the monsters, as they’d so casually called them – he’d holed up on his farm and creepily observed his neighbors and passersby through the window, giving them judging looks any time they’d display behavior he’d disapprove of – the horrible crimes of holding their partner’s hand or dressing up in a way he’d find inappropriate.

He’d also appeared to have an irrational hatred for witches.

So when he’d spotted Rowena in the store and caught her muttering a spell under her breath, he’d wasted no time in sneaking up on her and putting her in iron. He’d made sure to gag her as he led her to his truck – forcibly, pulling on the chains he’d put on her with all his strength, as if she were a beast he’d intended to tame.

Which, as it turned out, hadn’t been that far from the truth.

She’d put up a fight, struggling against the restraints. Her magic being bound didn’t mean she was powerless. However, her resistance proved futile. The man might have been older, but he was nowhere near the stereotype of a frail old man. He beat on her until she stopped fighting him; after each punch and kick he’d made sure to point out that it was her who was making him do that, and that none of it would have happened if she’d just stayed calm.

Rowena had heard enough of those excuses all throughout her lifetime to know that it was bullshit. She’d only given into his demands to stop him from hitting her. She could handle a beating – it had, after all, not been her first – but she didn’t know what he’d planned on doing to her later and she needed her strength in case he’d had in mind something especially bad.

After chaining her wrists up in his shed, he’d made a point of removing her heels and tossing them to the side. Rowena couldn’t help wondering if that had perhaps been a fetish of some sort – you never know with these freaks. However, as he’d soon explained, he’d only done it to help her. He’d intended to keep her like that for a while so he’d gotten rid of the shoes because he knew it would hurt her to stand in high heels for so long.

How considerate of him.

“This can all be over soon,” he said, his voice that of a man on the verge of madness. “You just have to repent and you will be free.”

“Repent for what?” Rowena scoffed. She’d done plenty of crazy shit in her lifetime, but lately she’d been clean, as the humans would call it. She hadn’t killed anyone in over six months. It wasn’t much, but for someone like her, it was progress.

“For your wicked ways,” he said.

“Think you’re the first man asking that of me? _Please!”_ She chuckled. “I’ll tell you what I told all those other zealots in the past – I’m _not_ sorry. For _anything._ I know you people are big on the whole martyr thing, but that’s not me. ****I love being bad. I revel in it. If you think you can get me to change my ways, you’ve got the wrong witch. I don’t apologize, and I most certainly do _not_ repent!”

She made sure to look him directly in the eyes as she spat those words. He may have gotten the upper hand in this fight, but she wanted him to know that she wasn’t frightened of him. He could threaten her. He could beat on her. He could torture her. He could do things to her that would make other people cower in fear. He could do anything he wanted, and she would still not be scared of him.

He was just a pathetic wee man who was scared of his own shadow. He couldn’t even face her without weakening her first. After being tortured by Crowley’s demons and murdered – twice! – by the devil himself, a mere human with fancy toys couldn’t scare her no matter how hard he wanted to.

“Give it time,” he told her solemnly. “Soon you will see it my way.”

Rowena’s response was a chuckle.

Then he produced a whip, and her face grew serious, carelessness fading to allow dread to settle in.

_Oh, no._

* * *

Convincing Crowley to help you rescue Rowena had been anything but easy. The two had been enemies before he’d even left the womb. They’d started to tolerate each other before the whole fiasco with Gavin happened – since then they could barely stand to look at each other. Not even dying at the hands of Lucifer and coming back to life – something they’d now had in common – could bring them at least a bit closer.

You’d initially planned to go look for her yourself, but after investigating the farm the locator spell had told you she’d been held at, you knew you couldn’t just burst in on your own. You’d even called the Winchesters to ask about the owner, just to be sure the stories you’d read about him were true, and they’d told you everything rumors on the internet had – he’d known about the supernatural and would gladly kill any beast that dared step foot on his property, but he wasn’t a hunter. That didn’t make him any less dangerous.

Your first thought was to ask Sam and Dean for help, but when you’d called to ask about the man who had taken Rowena, they told you they were on a case. Thinking they’d had enough on their plate, you just thanked them for the information and hung up the phone.

Having no other options, you summoned Crowley.

It took half an hour of you threatening, crying, begging, and offering to sell your soul for him to finally give in. He said it was to shut you up because you were annoying him, but you could see that a part of him still cared about his mother. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but the feelings, as small as they were, were still there.

He teleported you right outside the shed your spell pointed to. Bringing a finger to his lips to let you know to be quiet, he motioned for you to follow him.

Just as you approached the door, a scream sounded, loud and pained, followed by a cry you’d known all too well. Concern melted into fear as your heart started racing as if it was running a marathon. Heat burned in the back of your neck as dread you hadn’t felt since walking in on her charred corpse settled in. It wasn’t hear death that you feared now – it was pain.

A snap echoed, as if something leather collided with naked skin, and Rowena let out another bloodcurdling scream. Swallowing a scream of your own, you rushed forward. Before Crowley could stop you, you raised your hand and began muttering a spell, all caution thrown to the wind. You didn’t care if you got hurt – not anymore. Rowena was in pain, and if her safety meant you’d have to suffer a few bruises, so be it.

The door flew off its hinges, led by an invisible force, slamming into the ground with a loud thud. You wasted no time in bursting in, mentally preparing defensive spells.

The sight that greeted your eyes made you stop dead in your tracks.

“Bloody hell!” Crowley said, unable to mask the shock in his voice.

Bloody hell, indeed.

Rowena hung by the iron chains clasped tightly around her wrists. Her legs were weak, wobbly, barely supporting her trembling body. Had it not been for the chains, she would have collapsed into a broken heap. She raised her head weakly, putting all her remaining strength into locking her eyes with yours. Her bruised face glistened with sweat. Her makeup was smudged, bits of eye shadow and mascara trailing down her battered cheeks. Her hair, always so beautiful and in place, now resembled a dirty, messy haystack.

Blood pooled around her bare feet. The very same blood that had colored her torn up gown deep red, almost brown. The very same blood that had glistened on the surface of the leather whip the fanatic had been clutching as he stared into you and Crowley with absolute madness in his eyes.

You realized, as anger you hadn’t felt in a while flared in you, turning your blood into fire, that it wasn’t the defensive spells that you needed – it was the _offensive_ ones.

Just as you were about to spit out a spell, a gurgling sound made you turn your head. The zealot that had so mercilessly tortured your girlfriend had discarded the whip and brought his palms to his head, pressing into his temples in attempts to lessen the invisible pain.

“Repen–”

Before he could finish the word, his head split open, blood and brains gushing out like a burst of pressurized water. His headless body collapsed into the gore, blood pouring out the open neck.

You glared at Crowley as if he’d just murdered your entire family. You had been the one who wanted to make the bastard pay. You had been the one who wanted to torture him. How could he take that away from you, after everything that monster had done to your girlfriend?

The expression on the demon’s face told you he was been just as angry as you, and that was enough for your face to soften with understanding. Crowley may have despised Rowena, but she was still his mother. He may have wanted her dead, but not even he was that cruel. Not even he would do to her what that monster had done.

You rushed to Rowena, with Crowley following close behind. He instantly started working on the chains to free her while you cupped her cheeks with utmost tenderness, as if the slightest trace of roughness in your touch would break her, in hopes of providing comfort she so desperately needed. Not that she would admit it. Rowena was a proud creature. She’d rather suffer in silence than ask for help. Yet, you could tell by the look of relief that crossed her face that she was glad that you were there.

“You found me,” she said weakly, pushing forward to nestle into your palms. The movement caused her to let out a pained kiss, prompting you to step closer.

“Take it easy,” you said, pressing your forehead to hers, careful not to disturb the bruises. “You know I always find you.”

Her left wrist suddenly fell free and you instinctively wrapped your arms around her to steady her. Had you been late a single moment, she would have plopped to the ground. Slick covered your hands as you laid them on her back; one glance revealed it to be blood.

Your eyes widened at the state of her back. The ripped fabric of her dress revealed torn skin covered in cuts upon bleeding cuts. What used to be flawless, milky skin now looked more like tattered fabric.

“I’m sorry,” you said when she yelped. You loosened your grip, moving your hands to her lower back that hadn’t been as wounded as her upper one. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” You shot Crowley a dirty look, threat clear in your eyes. “Damn it, Crowley! Would it kill you to be careful? She’s hurt!”

“My sincerest apologies for not helping the woman who sent my son to die in a way you’d prefer,” Crowley said, every word dripping with sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes. “It was Gavin’s choice,” you pointed out. On one hand, you understood his bitterness. Had it been someone you loved, you would hold a grudge as well. On the other hand, you loved Rowena and seeing her in pain was breaking your heart. The thought of unnecessary harm coming her way just for the sake of Crowley’s petty revenge pissed you off to no end.

The King of Hell scoffed. “I have to say, mother,” he said as he started working on freeing her other wrist, “your ability to get yourself into crazy shit astounds me.”

“Always happy to provide entertainment for you, Fergus,” Rowena said.

He chuckled. “Flogging’s a nice touch. Should’ve suggested it to my demons back when they captured you,” he commented, throwing a short look at her back.

“A reminder of that is just what I needed,” Rowena retorted. “Thank you so much, Fergus. It’s nice to know how much you care about your mother.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Leave her alone,” you told him. His only response was a smirk. The chain freed her other wrist with a click. You stumbled as the weight of her entire body fell on you, barely managing to keep yourself on your feet. You may have been taller than her, but when it came to physical strength, she greatly surpassed you. That was one of the reasons you relied on your magic so much; what you couldn’t do physically you made up for with spells.

Only, there hadn’t been a spell to support a wounded person’s body – or at least you hadn’t been aware of one. You took a few steps back before finally steadying yourself and Rowena, your grip on her tight all the while. Despite her weakness, she managed to find balance on her own feet. She was nowhere near strong enough to stand on her own, but little support was better than no support.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” you said, glaring daggers at Crowley, who just winked at you. “Your son’s being an asshole.”

“It’s quite alright, dear. How bad is my back?”

You threw another look at her wounded back, hesitating for a moment before deciding on the truth. They were her injuries, after all. She deserved to know the full extent of them. “Very bad. I’m gonna need your help with the healing spell.”

You’d only performed it before a few times, and that had only been to heal small cuts. You’d never even seen wounds alike those she bore, let alone attempted to heal them.

She sighed. “Alright. You better not leave any scars,” she warned.

“I’ll do my best.” You couldn’t promise her there wouldn’t be any scars, but you would damn well do everything in your power to turn her skin back to its flawless glory. You turned back to Crowley. “Take us home, will you? _My_ home.”

“If you insist.” He eyed Rowena from head to toe. “I certainly hope your carpets are insured. She’ll make a mess.”

If there was one thing you didn’t give a damn about, it was Rowena getting blood on your carpets. Hell, she would get blood all over your apartment and you wouldn’t bat an eye. As long as she was safe, you didn’t care about your belongings. Her wellbeing came first. _She_ came first.

You made sure to give Crowley your deadliest of glares to get your point across. Just because he considered her worthless didn’t mean she was. Terrible mother or not, she was still a person. She had feelings. She hurt and suffered, and had gone through a horrible ordeal just mere minutes ago. She didn’t deserve to be looked down on like that.

“Just saying,” Crowley said nonchalantly.

“Why don’t you keep your comments to yourself?” you snapped, having had enough of his attitude.

“Don’t mind Fergus, Y/N,” Rowena told you in an attempt to calm you. “He’s just trying to get a rise out of you.”

You wished with all your heart that you could ignore him, but seeing her like that, all broken and vulnerable, made you angry. You had to take it out on someone, and who better than her wiseass son? He had, after all, been the one purposely hurting her while trying to help her and making unnecessary comments.

“I’m just saying, if it were me, I wouldn’t let her anywhere near my things. I’d probably dump her in one of the dungeons,” Crowley said with a shrug.

Even the thought of doing something like that made you sick. How could he even joke about it? Hadn’t she been through enough? “Good thing I’m not you, isn’t it?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“That’s enough, Fergus!” Rowena chided, getting irritated herself.

“I could always leave you here,” he reminded her.

“So leave me!” she said. “I’d rather suffer here than listen to anymore of your nonsense!”

“Someone’s in a mood.”

“You would be, too, if you’d been flogged _over thirty times!”_ she exclaimed, voice growing louder with every word.

That bastard had hit her over thirty times? Your teeth clenched in rage as your eyes trailed over to the headless, bloody corpse. _You’re lucky you’re dead,_ you thought. For if he hadn’t been, you would have made sure he wished he had. The pain he’d inflicted on Rowena would be nothing in comparison to what you would have done to him.

You wished there was something, anything, you could do to help her, but for now, until you were back in your apartment, there weren’t many options. So you opted for the best thing you could think of – a kiss to her cheek, just under a particularly nasty bruise.

“Disgusting,” Crowley commented, wrinkling his nose.

Before you could utter a reply, everything shook. In less than a second cold air was replaced by a warm one, foul smell fading into the sweet aroma of vanilla scented candles. Looking around, you sighed in relief at the sight of familiar surroundings. Just as you’d asked, Crowley had taken you and Rowena to your apartment.

“You’re _welcome,_ mother,” he said before teleporting away.

“Jerkass,” you muttered, causing Rowena to let out a soft laugh.

“That’s Fergus for you.”

You helped her sit down on the couch. Every now and then she’d let out a moan or a hiss. You’d utter an apology every time she’d make a sound. The last thing you wanted was to hurt her, but in order to get her comfortable – well, as comfortable as possible in her condition – a bit of pain was unavoidable.

“Stop apologizing, Y/N,” she told you after what must have been your twentieth apology, following her hiss as you cut the shattered dress off her to free her from the dirty, ruined fabric.

“I’m sorry.” You sighed when she shot you a glare. “I can’t help it. I hate seeing you in pain.”

“I’ll heal.”

“Yeah, you _will,”_ you said. “Right now you’re still hurt.”

“I’ll be better after you cast the spell.” She clasped her hand over yours, fingers squeezing yours. “Don’t worry, darling. This is only temporary. Soon I’ll be as good a new.”

Soon. As in, in the future. Right now she was still hurting. You couldn’t hold her the way you wanted to. You couldn’t kiss her like you always did. You couldn’t even hold her hand too tight. This tiny woman who’d held power greater than you could imagine was broken and there was nothing you could do to fix her all at once. That alone was driving you insane.

Smiling lightly, you leaned forward to lay a kiss to her cheek before continuing to cut through the fabric. Once the dress – or rather, what was left of it – was off her, you helped her lie down on her stomach. You took notice of the bruises on her torso and abdomen, their color matching those on her face. How hard did he have to beat her to do this kind of damage? Perhaps, in this case, ignorance was bliss. There were things you just didn’t need to know.

Just as before, she’d let out a few groans, but instead of apologizing, you took her hand and laid a kiss to her knuckles, a silent promise that you would do everything in your power to make her pain go away.

Getting to your feet, you took a long, hard look at her injuries, observing the full extent of the damage that had been inflicted on her. Aside from the wounds on her back, some still bleeding, you noticed a welt on her right calf. Its deep red color contrasted the paleness of her skin.

You swallowed back the rage that built up inside of you, taking a few breaths to remain calm. Getting angry wouldn’t help Rowena. The bastard that had done that to her was dead. He couldn’t hurt her, or anyone else, again. All that was left now was for you to help her heal, both physically and emotionally, and leave what happened today behind her.

You listened to her instructions as you started on the spell, uttering magical words with utmost care – one wrong pronunciation could render the entire spell useless. You made sure to repeat every word exactly the way she said it. There was too much at stake for you to make a mistake. Everything had to be pronounced perfectly.

It took about half an hour for the spell to be over. The worst of the wounds had closed, and the lesser ones had almost completely faded. The welt on her calf was now a pale, barely noticeable line. The bruises on her face and torso, once deep purple, were now just greenish shades.

“How are you feeling?” you asked.

“Better,” Rowena replied. She lifted herself up into a sitting position, letting out a slight groan.

“Are you sure?” you asked, eyeing her cautiously. The worst of her injuries might have been healed, but she was still bruised.

“Aye.” She pulled you by the hand to sit next to her and leaned forward to kiss you. “Thank you, darling.”

“You’re still hurt,” you said. “Thank me tomorrow, after I heal the rest.”

“What you’ve done deserves praise,” she told you. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You were wonderful.”

You smiled. You may not have been completely content with your work, but you could never tire of her praise. No feeling in the world could compare to the one that came with a witch of her caliber admiring your work.

“Do you need anything?” you asked.

“I’d like to take a bath,” she said. “And get some beauty sleep afterwards. I’m tired.”

You nodded. “I’ll go run you a bath.”

“No,” she said, pulling you back down when you started to get up. “I can do it.”

“But–”

“Darling, I’m wounded, not crippled,” she pointed out. “Why don’t you go pick out a nightgown for me while I’m in the bath?”

“Any nightgown?”

 _“Any_ nightgown,” she confirmed with a smile. “Alright?”

“Okay,” you said, still uncertain. “But if anything happens–”

“You’re a shout away,” she finished. _“Nothing_ will happen. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

After everything that happened today, how could you not worry? Giving another uncertain nod, you pecked her on the lips. You watched her as she gingerly rose to her feet. She took a moment to steady herself before heading to the bathroom.

You went through her vast collection of nightgowns before finally settling on a black, lacy one, reaching to mid-thigh. You knocked, waiting for her okay before walking in to drop off the gown. You couldn’t help smiling at her calm, serene expression as she laid in the bath, looking as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“I came to drop this off,” you said, showing off the gown you’d chosen.

She raised a teasing eyebrow. “Interesting choice, dear.”

“What can I say? I like it when you’re sexy.” You said with a nonchalant shrug.

“Are you saying I’m not usually sexy?” she said, feigning hurt.

“Maybe,” you teased. She pouted, making you chuckle. You leaned down to give her a quick kiss. “You know you’re always sexy to me, no matter what.”

“Good answer,” she said.

“Will you take long?” After such a tiring day, the only thing you wanted was to tuck yourself into bed and sleep for an eternity.

“I’d like to lie here for a bit. Why?”

“I’m sleepy,” you said.

“I can hurry if you want me to,” she offered.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. She deserved to relax a bit. “It’s okay. Take your time. I can wait.”

“You can join me if you’d like.”

“Tempting, but I’ll leave you to it. You deserve some you time. I’ll take a shower after you’re done.”

“Suit yourself.” She took your hand, pulling you down for another kiss. “Give me half an hour, alright?”

True to her word, half an hour later she was out. You hopped in for a quick shower, throwing your blood-soaked clothes in the washing machine. You hoped the stains could be removed. If not by human means, then certainly by magic. You made a mental note to ask Rowena about it.

Rowena was waiting for you on the bed. She looked almost regal, lying down like that, dressed in that nightgown that hugged her curves perfectly, as if it was made specifically for her. Not even the bruises on her face and chest could take away from her natural grace. It was a complete contrast to your sleepwear, which consisted of panties and an old undershirt. Sometimes you wondered what a lady like her was doing with a commoner such as yourself.

You plopped down on the bed next to her. “Come here,” you said, opening your arms.

She nestled in your chest with ease, like a kitten cuddling up to its mother. Nuzzling her hair, you breathed in the fresh aroma of her expensive shampoo. Nothing but the best when it came to your girl.

For a moment you just laid there, enjoying the comfort of each other’s warmth, before you broke the silence, unable to keep the question in anymore. “Rowena?”

“Hmm?” she said softly.

“Did… did he really hit you over thirty times?”

Instinct prompted you to bring her closer and tighten your grip on her. You feared you would disturb the injuries on her back, but when she made no protest, you kept your arm wrapped around her.

“Aye.” Your heart broke at the confirmation. “You stopped him somewhere close to forty.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Everything. Him doing that to you. Me not being there. I could’ve been there sooner if I hadn’t gone to Crowley. The truth is, I was scared. I found out he knew about the supernatural and I was afraid to go alone. I was selfish and it cost you.”

She raised herself up on her elbows to look at you. “I told you I’ll be fine. Don’t beat yourself up over it. What matters is that you came for me.” She brought a tiny hand to your cheek, giving it a caress. “You _saved_ me, Y/N. And healed me and took care of me. What more could I ask for?”

“A girlfriend who isn’t a coward?” you suggested.

“You’re not a coward,” she told you. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”

“I just hate seeing you hurt,” you said with a shake of your head. “What’s so wrong about that?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all. It’s just… this is all still new for me. Being cared for and… _loved._ God, it sounds so unnatural! It’s strange to have someone fuss over me when all I’ve ever done is walk the pain off.”

“You don’t have to do that anymore. I don’t mind taking care of you.” You clasped your hand over hers, bringing it to your lips to lay a kiss to its top. “I think I kinda like it. Makes me feel useful.”

“You’re _not_ useless,” she pointed out.

“I’m no good in a fight, either.”

“You were good today.”

“That’s because I was mad,” you explained. “He hurt you. I couldn’t forgive that.” As soon as the words left your mouth, her face fell. She lowered her gaze, avoiding your eyes. “What is it, honey? Did I say something wrong?”

She gave a slight shake of her head. “I hate that you had to see me like that.”

“I don’t mind. You shouldn’t either.” You ran a finger down a curly lock of her hair, playing with the tip. “Rowena, I know you’re proud, but, I swear, this changes nothing. I don’t think any less of you. Let me be strong for you for once, instead of the other way around. I owe you that much.”

You put your arms on her back, giving a gentle press to get her to lie back down. A slight moan that escaped her caused you to promptly let go.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She laid on her side so she could look at you. “Thank you, Y/N. You’re one of the few people who’ve shown me genuine kindness.”

Your lips curled into a smile. “I love you. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Get used to it.”

“I suppose I should,” she said, sporting a smile of her own. “I love you, too. Another thing I can’t seem to get used to.”

“You can do it. You’re already halfway there.” You pecked her on the lips, moving forward to press your forehead to hers. You wished you could stay that way forever, with her by your side, safe from harm. “You feeling okay? Does anything hurt?”

She shook her head. “Not at the moment. It hurts a bit when I move, but for the most part I’m good.”

You cautiously put an arm around her. “Does this hurt?”

“No.”

You kissed her cheek. “This?”

“No.” She chuckled. “You can hold me and kiss me and do everything you always do. I’m not going to break.”

“Can you blame me for being careful?” you asked with a pout.

“I most certainly can,” she teased, causing you to let out a soft laugh.

“Will you?”

“If you make it up to me, then no.”

You grinned, knowing exactly what she had in mind. “When you’re better.”

“Fine,” she said, sighing in defeat.

“Don’t be like that! Be honest, do you really think it’d be a good idea to have sex when you’re still hurt?”

She hesitated for a moment. “I suppose not,” she gave in.

“Not everything’s about sex. What’s wrong with just lying here, being a good girl, and letting me spoil you rotten?”

“Sex is more productive,” she said. “Though I’m not opposed to being spoiled.”

“Good,” you said, “‘cause you’re on bed rest until I say otherwise.”

“But–” she protested, but you cut her off.

“No buts! You still have a lot of healing to do. The spell won’t fix everything. We can’t exactly take you to a hospital, so you’re stuck with me playing doctor, and I say no moving around until you’re all healed.”

“Y/N!” she whined, pouting, and it was the most adorable sight in the world. How a woman that has been alive for over three centuries could look so damn cute while doing something as innocent as pouting was a mystery that had yet to be solved.

“Don’t 'Y/N’ me! You’ll get breakfast in bed and all the tea and alcohol you could wish for, amongst other things. All you have to do is ask.”

A playful smirk played on her lips. “I suppose a wee bit of coddling couldn’t hurt.”

“I knew you’d see it my way.”

She shrugged. “If that’s the treatment I get, I should consider getting hurt more often.”

“Don’t push it,” you warned.

“Or what?” she challenged.

“I’ll hurt you myself.”

She scoffed. “Darling, you’re afraid to touch me because of a few bruises. I very much doubt you have it in you to hurt me.”

She got you there. “Shut up and let me threaten you.”

Letting out a laugh, she snuggled up to you in an almost childlike manner, burying her head in the crook of your neck. “Hold me, will you? Just for tonight.”

“You don’t even have to ask,” you said. If it were up to you, you would never let her go. “Sweet dreams, my witch queen.”

**Author's Note:**

> Editors: [BewitchedSquirrel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/BewitchedSquirrel/) and [OswinTheStrange](http://archiveofourown.org/users/OswinTheStrange/).
> 
> [Hotdiggitydammit on Tumblr has been kind enough to make artwork of a scene from this story.](http://hotdiggitydammit.tumblr.com/post/175167451465/another-readerxrowena-specifically-requested-by/)


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